


January 2018

by babybrotherdean



Series: 365 challenge: 2018 [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Caretaking, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fireworks, Fluff, Gen, Glasses, Ice Skating, M/M, New Years, Old Married Couple, Picnics, Pining, Romance, Snow, Socks, Unrequited Love, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 14,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: Collection of 365 challenge ficlets for the month of January.





	1. One: Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me for a minute. I'm switching up the format of how I'm uploading these ficlets, because it'll drive me crazy if I've got 800+ works cluttering everything up at the end of the year. I'll be reuploading the ones I've already put here individually into one compilation like this.
> 
> That said, here's the stuff for the first ficlet again!
> 
> -
> 
> _Sam and Dean watch the fireworks from inside a chilly motel room._
> 
> So I've decided that I love to suffer and am doing the 365 fic challenge again for 2018. Yay?
> 
> Here's how it's gonna go down: since I still haven't gotten around to properly uploading the 2016 fics from that, what I'm going to do is upload two fics per day: the fic of the day for 2018, and the fic I wrote that same day for 2016 (so today, I'm uploading two fics I wrote on January 1st, two years apart). Kinda neat, right? And a good way to work through that massive pile of old ficlets and get them up here. Titles are just "day number: prompt/inspiration/mood".
> 
> So... that's everything? Sorry in advance for the influx of emails to come, for anybody subscribed to me.

“Dean? You awake?”

Sam’s barely whispering, but it’s enough for Dean to stir, brow furrowed as he wakes. His little brother is warm, tucked into the curl of his body, the two of them in a safe little cocoon of threadbare blankets that do little to protect from the frigid air. The power’s been out for three days in the North Country Inn, and in Minnesota, December isn’t a good time to be without heat.

“S'wrong?” Dean mumbles once he blinks his eyes open, but Sam’s not looking at him. Still pressed close, his eyes are fixed on the dirty window across the room, the one that looks out towards the bay and brings a stiff breeze whenever they dare to crack it open. “Sammy?”

Sam finally looks at him, eyes big and full of awe, and that’s when Dean hears it- a  _pop. Bang. Sizzle._  

“Can we go see?” Sam whispers, and he sounds excited, now, and Dean’s not far behind him, already scrambling into a sitting position and hauling his brother with him. He keeps the blanket tight around them both, and then they’re scrambling out of bed together, moving up close to the window to get a better look. 

It’s dark for a long moment before the next one goes off in a brilliant flash of colours, and Sam gasps at the shower of sparks. Dean’s mesmerized, too, holding tight onto his little brother and pressing his fingertips against the cold glass, wondering if it’s worth trying to get any closer.

Sam’s reaching for the window latch, now, and Dean doesn’t stop him, just pulling the blanket tighter around them both when the winter air rolls inside, unhindered by the torn screen. Twenty below, maybe colder. He tries not to shiver too hard.

“Fireworks,” Sam mumbles, and Dean gives a tiny nod, breathing in deep for the whiff of gunpowder that wafts in with the snowflakes. “They’re pretty, Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean hugs his brother a little bit closer and rests his chin on Sam’s head, the both of them fixated on the muffled view they have of the display. He remembers the date somewhere in the back of his head, and quietly makes a promise to himself that Sam will get to see this properly, one day. Real fireworks, right up close. Not a hundred feet away through a foggy window. “Fireworks. Happy New Year, Sammy.”

The both of them fall quiet as the show goes on. Maybe this time next year, they’ll be somewhere a little warmer and have a little celebration of their own.

(But then, maybe they don’t really need one, as long as they’ve got each other.)


	2. Two: the Smell of Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cozy fire in a chilly cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the tags alone from this fic and yesterday's: can you tell I'm in a mood?
> 
> Prompt came from an anon. "The smell of wood."

The cabin isn't very large, or very well-maintained. The floor creaks loudly unfoot, and the sparse furniture shows obvious signs of age. The bedsheets smell like mothballs, there's a nasty draft that cuts right through to the sleeping area, and the indoor plumping is questionable, at best.

Past it all, though, Dean can't help but get a little swept up in the homey, comforting scent of wood.

He still doesn't know how long they're going to be here- Dad says it'll be a few days, at least, maybe a couple weeks if they're unlucky- but he sees it as an adventure. They've never stayed in a place like this before, tucked away deep in a forest on the border between North and South Dakota, and it's exciting. Like real hunters, the ones who go after bears instead of monsters.

"Keep the fire going," Dad instructs him as he's on his way out for a supply run. "We don't have electricity, so that's how we're gonna keep warm. Got it?"

Dean just nods along, his brother already investigating every inch of the place, and Dad smiles before heading off with a promise to return with something edible.

In no time, Dean's got a nice blaze going in the stone fireplace, Sam huddled up at his side while they watch and listen. It's easy to ignore the cold air that sneaks inside, and the weird smells that cling to every fabric in the room, and even the way that everything seems to creak when they move. They've got a fire to keep warm, and a whole new adventure ahead of them once the sun comes up tomorrow- a whole forest to explore, as long as they bundle up all proper and stay close enough to hear Dad calling for them.

"Maybe we could make snowshoes," Sam whispers, awestruck as he curls closer, and Dean smiles to himself, resting his chin on his knees as the logs in front of them shift of their own accord. "Then we could go forever!"

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean nods and lets out a little sigh. It's kind of like they're camping, almost. "Forever and ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	3. Three: House Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester has never owned a house key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with how this came out, but I like the concept. Just wasn't totally sure where to take it.
> 
> Inspiration from... a keychain that was sitting on my desk. From Christmas. It looks like a little house.

Dean Winchester has never owned a house key. 

He's got exactly one keychain that carries exactly one key. It's a stupid, kitchy little tourist-trap piece from a Jayhawks game, and the key to the Impala dangles next to the cartoon bird.

He's held other keys, sure. Keys from a thousand different motel rooms that have passed through a thousand different pairs of hands. Keys that unlock secrets. Keys that aren't really keys at all, in the twenty-first century, boiled down to a piece of plastic that hides a microchip. Keys that don't really mean anything to him, in the grand scheme of things.

But Dean has never, ever owned a house key.

It's always seemed to him like the sort of thing that people take for granted, right up there with having four walls to go home to in the first place. He's never had to check for his keys before he leaves the house, and he's never had to lock up before heading out, and he's never had to worry about having left the door open. 

He certainly doesn't need to worry about losing something he doesn't have.

Lisa tries to give him one when they live together, but he never really feels like it's his home. The bunker has a key, too, but it's a big, clunky thing; far from what he can hope to hang alongside his car keys with the mascot from KU. It kind of feels like something's missing, even though it was never really there to begin with.

An extra set of keys to carry aren't what turn a house into a home, but that doesn't stop Dean from craving the normalcy of fumbling with them every time he tries to open the front door. 

As time crawls by, though, and as they settle in further- as Sam finally starts to bring his room to life, as things start to become familiar, as he starts to feel more comfortable and more safe- Dean thinks maybe he ought to start looking for a bigger keychain.

(Or maybe just for a smaller key.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks!


	4. Four: Reading Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared isn't entirely happy with needing to wear reading glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My glasses self-destructed today, and I needed a thing to write. Have some soft old!J2 with Jared in glasses.

“Hey, stop stressing about this, okay?" 

Jared’s got those wrinkles in his brow again, deep furrows that etch concern into his expression. He’s hunched over a book, sitting on the couch in their living room. Jensen makes his way over slowly, settling down beside Jared and taking a peek at the book before looking up at his husband. 

Light from the fireplace glints off the lenses of his new reading glasses, and Jensen reaches up thoughtlessly, smoothing out Jared’s forehead with his fingertips and then pushing them up into his air, absent and affectionate. Jared just watches him, and though the worry still lingers in his eyes, he’s fighting a smile.

"They look good on you,” Jensen tells him, a little softer. “Really good. Hot professor good.”

“You’re supposed to be the old man in this relationship,” Jared replies, but the words don’t do anything to disguise the laughter that slips out with them. “Reading glasses are definitely for old people, Jensen.”

“Then maybe you’re getting old, too.” Jensen smiles and gives him a nudge. “You’ve been going grey for years. It’s time you accepted it, grandpa.”

Jared grumbles something about who the real grandpa is between them, but he lifts an arm and wraps it around Jensen’s shoulders, tucking them in close together. “I’ll accept it when I’m dead. Now shush, I’m reading.”

Jensen laughs at him again and stays right where he is, resting his head on Jared’s shoulder and letting his eyes skim absently over the pages while Jared continues to read. It’s warm here, and they’ll go to bed soon, and neither of them can deny the grey hairs any longer.

But Jensen thinks it’s actually kind of nice that way. Kind of peaceful. It’s definitely something that he’s come to enjoy.

Now it’s just a matter of convincing Jared of the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	5. Five: Listless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's in a bit of a slump, but Sam's there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late, I've been busy getting ready to get back to school.

Today is just one of those days.

Dean’s not really watching the TV, but some part of his brain registers the patterns of light that flicker over his face. He’s sprawled out on the couch, head pillowed on the arm rest until he gets tired of the way it strains his neck.

They’re between jobs, and it’s on days like this that he’s left at a complete loss for what to do with himself. What to work for, what to focus on, what to pour his energy into. When it goes on for long enough, and he gets tired of scouting the papers and hitting up the locals, he always ends up like this. A little bit listless, and a little bit lost.

Part of him itches to hit the road again, telling him that getting behind the wheel will rid him of this funk. With no destination in mind, though, the thought isn’t terribly appealing when he can just stay right here, completely stagnant.

Sam’s return is announced by the sound of the door being unlocked sometime later, and he brings with him the scent of takeout food. Dean doesn’t get up, but he lifts a hand in greeting, waving in his brother’s general direction.

“Still no case,” Sam says, and Dean just sighs. “All’s quiet on the western front, for now.”

It isn’t surprising, but it still leaves Dean disgruntled, and he doesn’t say anything as he listens to Sam shuffle around across the room. Soon enough, he’s heading over, shoes and jacket abandoned and two big bags of Chinese food carried along with him. When he gets close, he gestures for Dean to sit up, just long enough that Sam can sit down on the couch and give Dean somewhere better to rest his head.

“There’s gotta be something,” Dean mumbles, even if he knows it’s not true. Sometimes things just get quiet, no matter how bizarre it seems. “We just gotta look harder.”

Sam’s fingers smooth their way into Dean’s hair, and Dean huffs a soft breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “We will. How ‘bout we just take it easy for tonight, though? Got you the chicken you like.”

“There’s not much chicken out there that I don’t like.” Still, Dean curls a little closer, letting out a sigh. “Fine. But tomorrow, we keep looking. Deal?”

“Deal.”

That’s enough to satisfy Dean for now, and he quiets down as Sam grabs the remote and starts searching for something to watch. It’s tough when there’s nothing for him to do- nothing that makes him feel useful- but Sam’s usually pretty okay at making him forget about that, at least for a little while.

Dean snorts when Sam ends up on the Discovery channel, but his eyes are already fixed to the screen. “Nerd.”

Sam pinches his ear in response, and the both of them stop talking as a documentary about whales starts playing in front of them.

Yeah. This isn’t so bad, as long as he isn’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Six: Cold Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some soft snuggling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fingers were cold and made me want this.

Jensen’s already mostly asleep when he hears the door open, and he doesn’t open his eyes when the mattress dips beside him. It’s a chilly night, and he’s quick to press in close when Jared slides in beside him, fingertips finding warm skin in his attempts to thaw them out.

Jared makes a sound like a hiss, twitching under the touch, but his arms still curl their way around Jensen’s middle. “Jesus. You gotta start wearing mittens to bed.”

It isn’t the first time that Jensen has seriously considered that. “When did Vancouver get so fucking cold?”

A soft huff of laughter, and Jensen snuggles closer while Jared’s body heat warms him up. “Pretty sure it’s always been that way, Jen. You just haven’t adapted to it yet.”

Jensen huffs, too, and responds to that by burying his cold nose against Jared’s throat. “It’s not natural to be this warm all the time. I think you’re part polar bear or something.”

“If you say so.”

There’s a smile in Jared’s voice and they both quiet down, warm and comfortable the way they’re tangled together. Between the cozy bundle that blocks out the cold and the feeling of another heartbeat under his fingertips, Jensen drifts right off to sleep, forgetting all about the chilly weather for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	7. Seven: Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean buys them some nice socks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like cozy socks and the bunker floor definitely needs them.

Dean puts up with icy concrete floors for two whole years before he finally gets fed up and decides to do something about it.

Getting carpeting for the entire bunker doesn’t seem all that realistic. Though he spends an embarrassing amount of time doing research on the subject, it’s ultimately the thought of needing to maintain them that drives him away from that potential solution. He’s too damn old to spend hours and hours vacuuming, so he tries to come up with something a little more reasonable.

When he finally settles on how to solve the problem, he feels ridiculous for not having thought of it sooner.

It takes some shopping around, but it’s only a couple days before he comes back triumphant, tracking down his brother where he’s set up in the library and presenting the bag he’s brought with him. “I’m a genius.”

Sam looks at him over the top of his book and raises an eyebrow. He’s dressed comfortably, with sweats and a soft shirt and bare feet, and Dean clicks his tongue. Exactly the problem at hand. “What makes you say that?”

“I figured out how to make our lives a million times better.” He digs into his bag for a moment, then produces one of the two items he’s brought home: a pair of thick, fluffy socks, identical pairs in matching red plaid. “Socks.”

Sam stares at him for a few seconds. “Socks?”

“Socks.” Dean huffs and tosses Sam’s pair into his lap. “C'mon, try them off. You’ll never have cold toes again.”

Sam still looks skeptical, but he sets his book to the side and obliges, tugging the tag off the socks and then starting to put them on. “I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about having cold toes. Where did you even find these?”

“A store.” Dean grabs a seat in the chair next to Sam and immediately goes about undoing his boots, shedding his regular socks right with them and then pulling on the new ones. They’re just as soft as expected, and he lets out a happy sigh, wiggling his toes. “See? Now we can get out of bed in the morning without freezing to death.”

He glances over, and Sam’s inspecting his newly-socked feet, amusement in his expression. Their eyes meet, and Sam’s smiling, and Dean can’t help but return it. “In that case, I guess you must be a genuis, after all.”

With a firm nod, Dean settles back in his chair once more, sighing happily and tapping his feet against the floor, no longer bothered by how cold it tends to be. Plus, they’ve earned a bit of a luxury by now. Even if it’s just in the form of fancy socks. “Damn right I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	8. Eight: Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared gives Jensen a little surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picnic!! Fluff! That's the whole thing.

“C'mon, was the blindfold really necessary?”

Despite Jensen’s grumbling, Jared doesn’t let up, leading him by the shoulders through their home. It’s one of their last days of hiatus, and they’re spending it together, bundled up inside and away from the biting cold of Vancouver. A couple hours ago, though, Jared had insisted that Jensen not leave the bedroom, refusing to explain exactly why, and it’s only now that he’s being brought downstairs, albeit with no better idea of what’s going on.

“We’re almost there,” Jared promises, and Jensen just heaves a put-upon sigh. “It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

Jensen lets himself be led the last few steps, and then Jared pulls him to a halt, starting to undo the blindfold. By the feeling of the rug under his feet, they’re in the living room, and he waits until the fabric is pulled from his eyes before opening them, only to find himself at a total loss for words.

Much of the furniture’s been pushed aside, the coffee table and couches all lined up at the edge of the room to make space in the middle of the floor, now dominated by a checkered blanket with a classic wicker basket sitting on top of it. There’s a fire crackling away at the mantle, and a bottle of wine waits, unopened, beside the blanket, two glasses set neatly beside it.

“I know it’s not exactly real warm weather,” Jared says, and Jensen just continues to stare, lips parted. “But- well, I don’t think we’ve ever been on a proper picnic before, and I know you don’t like the cold, so I thought I’d try to do something for it. Make the best of our time off, you know?”

When Jensen finally looks back at his husband, Jared’s got that nervous sort of smile on his face, like he’s not sure whether to be excited or worried, so Jensen stretches up on his toes and kisses it away, something warm and good blooming in his chest. “So what’re we having?” he mumbles into Jared’s mouth, and when a pair of arms wrap tight around him, Jensen can feel the smile against his lips.

“C'mon,” Jared hums, and he’s already nudging Jensen back towards their little spread. “I’ll show you.”

They curl up together in front of the fire with expensive wine and Italian food to match (“I know it’s not really a traditional picnic thing, but-”), and though it doesn’t quite feel like summer, it feels warm and safe and good.

“I knew you were the romantic one,” Jensen teases once they’re done the food and a little bit tipsy, and Jared just laughs and kisses him again.

It’s a damn good way to spend the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	9. Nine: Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even as an adult, Dean sometimes needs to remind his brother that it's time to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, the idea I started with was "neck kisses," but they did not end up making an appearance and this came out totally platonic. Oh, well.

Sam's lost track of time. He's been hunched over his computer for hours, barely taking a long enough break to have some dinner Dean dropped off for him. He knows it's been happening a lot recently; these days that get sucked away into the glow of the monitor. It's not that he means to do it, and Dean usually gets on his case about it when it happens, but it's hard not to get caught up in his work when there's so much on the line. Whether it's finding people to save or searching for leads on whatever bad guy they're trying to track down, nothing ever seems quite as important.

Today is no different.

There's a crick in his neck and his eyes hurt, but it doesn't stop him from continuing to scroll through his search results, opening several tabs to explore later. He doesn't hear the footsteps approaching, and he doesn't notice his brother's presence until a hand settles on his shoulder, startling him and making him jump, fumbling to compose himself before he figures out who it is.

"Dude, c'mon. It's late." Dean looks worried, and Sam tries to blink the dryness from his eyes. How long has he been here? "Google will wait. You have to get to bed."

Sam opens his mouth like he's going to argue, but Dean gives him the stern sort of look that he's always reserved for bedtime- mostly for when he was a kid, but it makes appearances even now when he fails to take proper care of himself- and he just sighs. "Shouldn't you be in bed, too?"

"Not before I know you're asleep." Dean glances at the computer screen, then reaches out and shuts the laptop, ignoring Sam's sound of protest. "Let's go, kiddo. Time for bed."

With only a small amount of reluctance, Sam stands up, letting his big brother steer him out of the bunker's library and down the hall towards their bedrooms. "You need at least four hours," Dean tells him along the way, and Sam sighs again. "Eight, if you can manage it. And we're gonna have a real breakfast in the morning. You can't live off smoothies and salads, Sam."

"I had a protein bar today," Sam grumbles, and Dean snorts. "They're healthy."

"Just because they're healthy doesn't mean they're real food."

Sam decides not to argue with that particular bit of logic, falling quiet until they reach his bedroom. Dean brings him inside and takes him straight to his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now you're gonna get your pyjamas on and go to sleep, okay? If I find out you're awake in here doing work, you're gonna be in trouble."

Sam raises an eyebrow, even as he turns to the chest of drawers and starts to sift around in search of some clothes. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. I can manage my own bedtime."

"Apparently not." Dean wags a finger his way, then turns back towards the door. "So go to sleep, okay? Get some shut-eye. You gotta sleep to live, Sammy."

With that, he's gone, shutting the door behind him and, by the sound of his footsteps, returning to his own bedroom. Sam stays where he is by the dresser for a moment, almost considering trying to return to the library- whether to do some more work or just see how his brother will react, he's not sure. Ultimately, though, his heavy eyelids get the best of him, and after changing into his pyjamas, he slowly makes his way to bed, crawling under the covers and turning off the light.

It's a matter of minutes before he's dead to the world, and when he feels more like a human being the next morning, he makes a mental note to thank Dean. Even if he forgets to take care of himself at times, at least his big brother is around to keep an eye on him, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	10. Ten: Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try ice skating, with some mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fluff because I was thinking about skating and wondering if J2 were any good at it.

Jensen’s still not entirely sure what made him agree to this.

“Hey, c'mon, don’t make that face,” Jared says, and he’s grinning, cheeks already pink with the cold bit of wind that blows. “It’ll be fun. Promise.”

They don’t usually spend the winter months in Vancouver, typically flying back to Texas over their filming hiatus, but this year, things have turned out a little differently. Some scheduling issues have stuck them in Canada a few weeks too early, and they’re left with some time off before they’ll be needed on set, leaving them to their own devices for the time being.

Jared, being Jared, has decided that they ought to try an outdoor skating rink.

“Have you ever even been skating before?” Jensen asks suspiciously. He’s already wobbling, and they haven’t even made it to the ice yet, skates laced up and the pair of them walking- if it can even be called walking- towards the rink.

“Maybe.” It’s an evasive answer, and Jensen suspects it means no. “But that’s all the more reason to try, right? C'mon, we can’t spend all this time in Canada and not go skating, right?”

With a put-upon sigh, Jensen stops complaining for the moment, putting all of his effort into staying upright as they finally make it to the edge of the ice. Families and couples are already populating the area, some more skilled than others in their movements. Jensen eyes a few children who’ve got walkers to help keep their balance, and briefly wonders whether he’ll be able to grab one for himself.

“Here we go,” Jared says, then, and Jensen’s being pulled out onto the ice with him, cursing under his breath as standing suddenly becomes exponentially harder. He’s left grabbing at Jared’s jacket, barely staying upright as they hold onto one another.

“You’re gonna get us both killed,” Jensen huffs out, but Jared’s laughing at him, breathless as he seems to try to steady them both. “Seriously, you know how pissed everyone at work is gonna be if we turn up all black and blue?”

Jared just grins, finding his balance and holding Jensen close to him, either as a crutch or to offer support. It’s hard to tell. “We won’t,” he says simply, and then he’s turning, starting to make tiny movements with his feet that begin to propel them both forwards.

It’s hard to deny that once they get moving- once Jensen’s initial fear of falling flat on his face subside a little bit- it’s actually kind of nice. Even though it’s well below zero, the sun shines overhead, and they’re surrounded by soft chatter and laughter, a friendly atmosphere that leaves him smiling to himself. Jared’s warm at his side, and smiling even bigger, a solid presence that makes it a little easier to focus on the good parts of this instead of worrying about what his feet are doing underneath him.

“You know,” he says after a moment, just softly as he looks up towards Jared, “maybe this isn’t so-”

He’s cut off when he hits a nick in the ice, the rest of his sentence exchanged for an alarmed yelp as his feet slip out from under him and he’s left grabbing desperately at Jared for balance, which just results in the both of them going down. Jensen lands hard on his ass, and Jared’s not any better off, but once the initial shock wears off…

“Oh my god,” Jared says, and he’s laughing all over again, still holding on tightly to Jensen. “You should’ve seen your face, that was too good-”

“Oh, shut up,” Jensen huffs, and he shoves at Jared’s shoulder, but he’s smiling, too, and even though the ice is already seeping cold and wet into his jeans and he’s sure he’s going to have some wicked bruises in the morning, he doesn’t protest when Jared starts to get up, moving along with him so they can go right back to their stilted version of skating. “You’re terrible at this.”

“So are you.”

They’re both pretty awful, truth be told, and as soon as Jared leans in looking for a kiss, they hit the ice all over again. Even though they both go home that day with wet clothes and dark bruises, they’re both smiling, too, bumping elbows and laughing at themselves. Jensen finds himself wondering if they’ll have a chance to do it again any time soon.

Sore ass be damned, he sure as hell hopes so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	11. Eleven: Pathetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can't stop staring, no matter how bad it hurts to look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddd we're back to posting! Sorry I got a bit off-track. Reorganizing everything was a pain.
> 
> (Case in point: accidentally posting this as its own work and IMMEDIATELY DELETING IT. Smooth.)
> 
> The prompt for this one was "pathetic," so as you can imagine, lots of fun. Good times.

Sam can’t make himself stop staring, no matter how bad it hurts to look.

They’re in one of those in-between kinds of places, the far-out highway that’s neither here nor there in the grand scheme of things. Dad’s driving, and Dean’s sitting shotgun, like he always does, and Sam- Sam’s been shafted to the backseat, not that it’s anything new. The radio’s low, just enough background noise to complement the rumble of the engine as they cruise past horizon-wide fields, barren in the winter months.

Sam thinks he should be watching the scenery, or trying to sleep for a little while before they reach the next town and inevitably go to work on whatever case has brought them there to begin with. The sun’s already begun its descent, casting the world in shades of red and gold, and it wouldn’t be hard to drift off, or to pay some measure of attention to the world around them.

Instead, his eyes are fixed on his big brother, smiling to himself in the front seat.

Dean’s always beautiful, but there’s something about the sunset that highlights it further, bringing out the cinnamon freckles on his skin and the gold highlights in his hair. He’s humming along to whatever’s playing on the radio, drumming his fingers against the windowsill and looking for all the world like he couldn’t be more content, and Sam wants to cry.

He’s pathetic in his obsession, in the way there’s nobody else he wants to look at. In the way he can never seem to tear his eyes away from Dean, and the way he fights so hard to win his big brother’s attention. It’s pathetic because Dean deserves so much better, and because there’s no way he’ll ever look back at Sam. Not really.

Sam almost startles when Dean glances back at him, and he’s got a warm smile on his face and Sam’s stomach ties itself into a knot. “All good, Sammy?”

So he swallows hard around the lump in his throat and tries to mask his feelings, prays that Dean can’t see past it to the pitiful thing he’s become. Puts half a smile on his face and hopes that it’s enough. “All good.”

Dean smiles at him again and then turns forward, apparently satisfied with the answer. When Sam finally manages to look away, it’s to stare at his window, instead, fighting hard against the tears that want to fall and the tightness in his chest that threatens to suffocate him.

Maybe it’s about time he learned to close his eyes. It would be healthier for him than continuing to stare into the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading (and putting up with all the emails from my reuploading)!


	12. Twelve: Tangible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a few days after the djinn, Dean can’t help but be a little clingy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt I got was "tangible," and I'm constantly sad about WIAWSNB.

For a few days after the djinn, Dean can’t help but be a little clingy.

He catches himself watching Sam a little too closely, and though his brother doesn’t ultimately question him about the strange behaviour, Dean can feel Sam’s concern. He can’t help himself, though, not after his reality had been so swiftly turned on its head without his notice.

So it’s the little things that he looks for, mostly. The way Sam speaks to him, or the ghosts he’d been seeing in his peripherals during his time strung up in that warehouse. His mother isn’t present, and the world doesn’t have that cheerful sort of saturation that had only become obvious in its absence, but he can’t stop himself from questioning it all.

Maybe the thing that makes it all so difficult is how convincing the dream had really been. In the moment, it had been impossible to place it as anything but real, and it’s only now, in hindsight, that he’s able to pick out the shimmer of unreality that characterized the entire thing. He looks for it now, as a result, and on the other side of things- the easier side of things- he clings.

There’s the car, first. Tangible and unmistakable in her details, from the initials carved in the door to the arsenal in the trunk; a million little things that had simply ceased to exist in that other world. So he drives, the way he always does, taking comfort in the purr of her engine and the smell of her leather. Hunting is another thing, one that he’s quick to throw himself back into as soon as he’s got the opportunity. Fire and gunpowder are familiar and safe, and work is an effective distraction from the lingering uncertainty of the djinn dream.

Above all else, though, there’s his little brother. No matter how hard Dean tries to stop himself, he hovers, savouring every moment he’s allowed to be close to Sam without feeling the sting of rejection. It’s a miracle that Sam doesn’t snap at him, hanging close and chatting incessantly, but maybe- maybe the small glimpse that Dean had shared about the world he’d been thrown into had been enough to win some sympathy points.

Whatever the reason, Dean’s never been more thankful that he can nudge his brother where Sam’s sitting shotgun and say “hey, you wanna just take it easy tonight?” and receive an affirmative hum, a “yeah, alright.” It warms him in a way that it hasn’t in a long time, and he has to hide his smile.

If anything good has come out of this ordeal, Dean thinks, it’s that he’s learned how to appreciate the relationship he has with Sam just a little bit more. He likes the feeling of being loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	13. Thirteen: Snow Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes the most of the weather, and Mary watches her little angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry thinking about this idea. I'm so predictable. 
> 
> Happier AU where nobody dies, so baby Sammy gets to be around for some wintertime fun.

“Mommy! Mommy, watch me!”

Mary can’t help the way her lips curve up into a smile with the excitement in Dean’s voice. She looks up from Sammy, swaddled up so tight in her arms to protect him from the chilly air, only the tip of his nose visible. Dean’s much the same, though he still does his best to run around the backyard in his snowsuit while he makes the most of the weather. It’s been snowing on and off for days, now, leaving a heavy blanket of it covering the entire state. Today, the sun is shining overhead, and it’s the perfect opportunity to spend some time outdoors.

As soon as he sees her watching, Dean goes to work, spreading his arms out wide on either side of him before flopping right back into the snow. He makes a little “oof” before giggling and starting to wave his arms and legs, deliberate in his movements. Mary rocks Sammy in her arms and waits until he’s all done, already standing so she can see as he climbs out of the imprint he’s made.

“Look!” Mary’s already picking her way through the snow, glad she pulled on the heavy snow boots that John got her before coming outside today. “See? Angel!”

Sure enough, Dean’s standing proudly beside a little snow angel, a little bit messy, but unmistakable. He hurries to Mary’s side as she takes it in, and when she looks down at him, his eyes are wide, uncertain. Waiting for her approval.

Mindful of Sammy, still dozing, she crouches down where she is, smiling once more. “It’s beautiful, baby,” she says to Dean, voice soft, and feels warm with the way he lights up again. “Perfect for my little angel.”

She leans in to kiss his forehead, and he goes right back to playing in the snow, leaving his angel carefully undisturbed. Mary moves back to the porch to watch him, making a note to herself to pull out the camera before it snows again. Something about this feels special, and she doesn’t want to let it go to waste.

Then again, as long as she’s got her own little angel, perfect and kind and good the way he is, the one that’s been painted into the snow doesn’t seem quite as important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	14. Fourteen: Snowball Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Throwing baseballs isn’t the same as throwing snowballs.” Jensen rolls his eyes and laughs when Jared gives him a playful nudge. The both of them are soaked, neither properly dressed for the weather, and it’s not exactly warm outside. It’ll be a relief to finally get inside and be able to change. “And you cheated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something silly and soft. College AU thing.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Jensen’s shivering, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face, either, and it probably takes some of the bite out of his words. Jared’s close beside him, the two of them bumping into each other as they walk back towards their apartment, trudging through the heavy snow that blankets the ground. The whole campus has turned into a winter wonderland, and Jared was the one who’d suggested that they enjoy it while they can.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you suck at throwing,” Jared teases him in return. “Don’t you play baseball?”

“Throwing baseballs isn’t the same as throwing snowballs.” Jensen rolls his eyes and laughs when Jared gives him a playful nudge. The both of them are soaked, neither properly dressed for the weather, and it’s not exactly warm outside. It’ll be a relief to finally get inside and be able to change. “And you cheated.”

“Yeah?” Jared raises his eyebrows. “How’d I manage that?”

“You were distracting me.” Jensen elbows him in the ribs, just enough to hear him huff a protest. “With your face. It’s hard to focus on hitting you with snowballs when I have to look at you to do it.”

That leaves Jared laughing again, slowing him down and forcing Jensen to wait up for him while he catches his breath. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that. It probably won’t be the last, either.”

For that comment, Jensen leans down to scoop up some snow- his hands are bare, mitts already soaked through and abandoned, but he doesn’t mind- and quickly shoves it down the back of Jared’s coat, hurrying out of the way and laughing as Jared yelps. He dances around on the spot, trying to get the snow out of his shirt, and when he finally manages it, he’s left scowling at Jensen, though by the way his lips are twitching, it’s hard to maintain. “C'mon, and you call me the asshole?”

Jensen just grins at him, waiting for Jared to catch up before he starts walking once more. The building is just ahead, and he’s eager to get inside and into some warm clothes. “I call ‘em like I see 'em.”

Jared’s smiling again not long after that, and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence for the rest of the walk. When they make it to the building, Jared reaches out and grabs Jensen’s hand, pulling him to a stop just by the door and closing the space between them. “So… I figure we should do whatever it takes to get warm once we’re inside,” he says solemnly. “Or else we might die of hypothermia.”

Jensen quirks an eyebrow, but smiles, too, meeting Jared’s eyes and leaning into him a bit. “Yeah? Sounds pretty serious.”

“It is. Deeply.” Jared nods, then leans in so his forehead is resting against Jensen’s, the tips of their noses just barely brushing together. “I hope you’re as committed to staying warm as I am.”

Jensen responds to that by stretching up on his toes and pressing their lips together, smiling into the kiss. One of Jared’s arms curls tight around his waist, and the other- Jensen loses track of the other, for a moment, but it doesn’t seem to matter all that much until-

The shriek- there’s really no other word for the sound he makes- is muffled against Jared’s lips, but Jensen is quick to scramble away, reaching back behind him in an attempt to stop the ruthless, icy slide of a handful of snow down the back of his shirt. Jared’s laughing, and it’s only a few traumatizing moments later that Jensen’s able to look at him properly, wide-eyed and breathless after the assault.

“Hey, you weren’t wrong about the asshole thing,” Jared tells him with a grin, cheeks pink in the cold air. “But, uh- I wasn’t kidding about the warmth thing, either. Hypothermia. Very serious.”

Jensen just stares at him for a long few seconds before shaking his head and turning to head into the building. “You can sleep on the couch tonight. Or maybe the floor.”

Jared whines and chases after him, and it doesn’t take a whole lot of convincing to let him back into the bed. Jensen would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit easy to please, as far as Jared is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	15. Fifteen: Wuv Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wuvs hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that the shirt needed an origin story.

Dean’s eyes are wide with wonder as he’s led through the store, his momma holding his hand to guide him as they go. There are so many  _things_ here, so many different colours and fabrics and sounds and smells. There are other children here, with their parents (Dean’s too shy to say hello to any of them; mostly he’ll just hide behind his momma’s legs and hope nobody sees him), and other people, too, all roaming around the different aisles and picking out clothes to take home.

Momma says he gets to pick out some shirts all by himself today, and the whole thing’s got Dean giddy with excitement. He’s never gotten to pick out his own clothes before, and he’s almost overwhelmed by all the choices he already sees. Momma keeps leading him, though, taking him to another part of the store. “Here, baby. See anything you like?”

It’s a little more jumbled, here, and Dean furrows his brow a little, immediately setting to work inspecting all the options laid before him. He sees some green shirts, and some red ones, and even some pink- there are  _girl_ clothes here, too- but it’s a blue one that catches his eye, and he lets go of his momma’s hand to get a closer look.

When he tugs it off its hanger, he sees that it’s not just blue. There’s a teddy bear on the front, and he makes a soft sound when he sees it, petting it with his fingertips. On the bear’s tummy, there are some words, and though he squints and pulls it close to his face, making his best effort to understand what they say, it’s of no use.

“Momma, what’s this?” he asks instead, turning and holding the shirt up for her to see. She’s smiling, and gives a soft hum as she leans in to take a look, laughing a moment later.

“It says ‘I wuv hugs’, Dean,” she tells him, and Dean gasps softly. “Do you like it?”

Dean’s a big boy, almost four, and he knows how to say 'love’ like grown-ups do, but he nods quickly, eyes wide. Hugs are maybe his favourite thing in the entire world, when his momma or daddy hold him close and make him feel warm and safe and loved. Maybe he’ll get lots more hugs if people know that he likes them. “I wuv hugs, Momma! Can I get it? Can I?”

She laughs again, and then leans down to gather Dean up in her arms, hugging him tight. Dean wraps his arms around her neck in return, snuggling in close and relaxing with her familiar scent. “Of course, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Dean cheers and laughs when Momma stands up, still holding onto him and his new shirt. She carries him for the rest of their time in the store, and when they leave with a little bag that holds all his new clothes, Dean couldn’t be happier.

He puts the shirt on as soon as he gets home, and Daddy hugs him when he sees it, too. He never, ever wants to wear a different shirt again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	16. Sixteen: Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Jared mumbles between kisses, and Jensen’s got his eyes closed, head tipped back, entirely focused on the brush of lips against his throat, “you’re beautiful. Like- stupidly, unfairly beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something soft with a small bit of angst? Idk where it came from.

“You know,” Jared mumbles between kisses, and Jensen’s got his eyes closed, head tipped back, entirely focused on the brush of lips against his throat, “you’re beautiful. Like- stupidly, unfairly beautiful.”

It isn’t the first time he’s heard it, but Jared’s the only one who can make his heart stutter with the words, make his breath hitch. They’re pressed up close together, legs tangled where they’re laid out on the couch, and Jensen curls his fingers tighter Jared’s shirt, wondering distantly why he’s still wearing it at all. The TV is on somewhere in the background, all the other lights in the room dimmed low, but the rest of the world doesn’t really matter right then and there. “Shut up.”

“You are.” And Jared pulls away, then, but only far enough so that when he cups Jensen’s cheek and Jensen opens his eyes, he’s right there, watching. “C'mon, there’s no way you don’t know that. How could you possibly look in the mirror without noticing?”

Jensen breathes out hard and pulls Jared a bit closer, just because he can. Just because the warmth of his body and the gentle, steadying quality of his touch is addictive, is necessary. “You’re just a big sap.”

“Haven’t we established that by now?” Jared smiles at him and nudges their noses together, soft and affectionate. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Jensen rolls his eyes at that, and Jared laughs. “C'mon, take the compliment. It’s not a bad thing.”

For the time being, Jensen lets the subject drop, opting instead to lean in and catch Jared’s lips with his own, holding him tight and gladly letting himself drift away into the kiss. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to have a conversation like this, the part of him that curls away from those kinds of words, but with Jared-

-with Jared, it all seems a little bit easier. With Jared, none of it seems quite as scary, or quite as bad.

With Jared, it’s kind of nice to be called beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	17. Seventeen: Meet-cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen's running late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet-cute and airport was the thing for today. :>

Of course he’s running late. Of  _course_ it isn’t stressful enough, having to fumble his way through an unfamiliar city to get to a job interview, or having to fly there in the first place; the airport is crowded today, and Jensen’s barely able to keep a grip on his coffee as he weaves his way through the crowds, headed for baggage claim and hoping that the flight delay hasn’t cost him his job. Maybe if he’s really lucky, they’ll let him explain and give him a second chance, but he’d much rather avoid that necessity altogether, so he needs to grab his bag and find a cab and-

-and he’s so damn focused on the signs overhead that point him where he needs to go that he stops paying attention to the people around him, and he pays the price when he collides with someone and his coffee bursts between them.

Jensen nearly loses his balance out of shock, but the stranger grabs his arm to steady him, and when Jensen looks up- shit. He’s handsome, and he looks startled, and Jensen just spilled coffee all over them both, and he’s going to be  _late_ -

“Hey, are you okay?” the guy asks him, and he sounds genuinely concerned, a million miles from the flippant, cold attitude that Jensen’s come to expect of strangers in the city. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t see you coming.”

“No, it’s…” Right. Words. Jensen swallows hard, finally registering the coffee that’s soaking into his shirt, and. Shit. He’s going to have to change. If nothing else, he’s thankful for how long he’s been holding it; lukewarm instead of scalding. “I wasn’t looking. Shit, I’m sorry, I got you all…” He gestures to the man’s shirt- just this side of too tight, maybe, and it’s a fight not to start staring- and winces in sympathy.

“Hey, it’s fine. Seriously.” And then the guy’s smiling with a stupid, adorable pair of dimples, and Jensen- Jensen’s  _gone_. He’s done. “Uh- were you going somewhere?”

Jensen remembers his interview all at once, and he curses, reaching to pull out his phone and check the time, but-

Oh.

There’s a new message waiting for his attention, and when he looks into it-  _Hey- something came up last-minute, we’re going to have to reschedule. Sorry for the short notice. I’ll be in touch!_ \- he’s left gaping.

“I… guess not.”

If anything, that just makes the guy smile even bigger, and then he sticks out his hand, apparently unperturbed by the coffee situation. “Well, I’m Jared. Maybe you’ll let me make this up to you with lunch? Or, uh- maybe just another coffee?”

Jensen takes a brief moment to consider his options- he doesn’t have anywhere to be now, and once he grabs his luggage… well, it’s not like he’s got anything to do. He’ll need to change his shirt, and check into his hotel, and find his way around the city, but-

But looking at Jared’s hopeful smile and feeling his own heart stutter in response, it doesn’t seem like such a hard choice.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright,” he says slowly, reaching out to accept Jared’s hand, and Jared visibly lights up. “And, uh- I’m Jensen. Mind if I grab my luggage first?”

Just like that, Jensen’s found himself a friend in this new place, sticking close by his side as they head to the baggage claim and telling Jensen everything about where he’s just come from. He’s cute, he’s excitable, and he seems keen on spending more time together immediately.

A friend, yeah. Maybe a little something more, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	18. Eighteen: Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forest floor is a far cry from Dean’s memory foam mattress back home, but the exhaustion creeping over him makes it impossible to ignore the need for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of a few ficlets loosely inspired by Sam and Dean spending time in the Bad Place. 2.5 days of time offscreen? So much to work with.
> 
> And, uh... s13 spoilers, I guess?

The forest floor is a far cry from Dean’s memory foam mattress back home, but the exhaustion creeping over him makes it impossible to ignore the need for sleep. There isn’t a clear distinction between day and night in this place, but his watch is still functioning, and they’ve only been here for a matter of hours. It feels like it’s been a hell of a lot longer.

Sam’s close by, sitting up against a tree because they’re supposed to be doing this in shifts, to be safe. They’ve got a small fire burning, because the light and warmth seem worth the risk, but it’s far enough away that the cold has started seeping into Dean’s fingertips, and between that, his rumbling stomach, the bone-chilling sounds that echo through the trees every now and again…

“It’s too early to sleep,” he says, sitting up and trying to brush the stray leaves from his jacket. “Like- c'mon, we can keep walking. We’ve gotta find a way out of here, right?”

Sam sighs audibly, and when Dean turns to look, his brother’s watching him with a touch of concern. “Dean, we’re already running on fumes, here. If we don’t get some rest, we’re toast.”

“I’m good.” Dean waves him off, pretending like his eyelids don’t feel heavier by the minute. “I got a whole five hours last night, so I’m set for about a week.”

Sam’s still giving him that look, and Dean heaves a sigh. “C'mon, what do you want me to say? I can’t sleep. This is a waste of time. Let’s keep moving.”

Instead of agreeing to what Dean thinks is a completely reasonable suggestion, Sam shifts the way he’s sitting, letting both his legs stretch out in front of him before gesturing for Dean to join him. “C'mere. You’re getting some sleep whether you like it or not.”

Disgruntled, but too tired to protest, Dean shuffles closer, not entirely sure what Sam expects from him. As if on cue, Sam grabs his shoulder and eases him down until Dean’s head rests in his lap, and Dean’s left at a loss, blinking at the fire where it blazes on in front of them.

“Sleep,” Sam repeats firmly, and then his fingers are in Dean’s hair, and- oh. That’s kind of nice. “We’re not going anywhere until then.”

Slowly, as Sam strokes his hair and warms him up again, Dean’s eyes slip shut, finding a lot of comfort in just being close like this. He promises himself that he won’t sleep for long- they need to move, and besides that, Sam needs his chance at a bit of rest, too- but even that fades to the background as sleep overcomes him, letting out a soft breath as he finally drifts off.

They’ll be fine. As long as they’ve got each other, they always are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	19. Nineteen: Lizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sam, we’ve got to eat something. Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Bad Place one. Because Dean eating lizard was too funny. 
> 
> (Spoilers, again.)

“Sam, we’ve got to eat  _something_. Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Sam gives his brother an unimpressed look as they continue to cross through this new dimension they’ve found themselves trapped in. They seem to be stuck in a perpetual state of dusk, and though his eyes have long since adjusted to the limited lighting, it still leaves him feeling unsettled.

Admittedly, Dean has a point. They’ve been here for a few hours now, and he can feel his stomach growling. There’s no telling how long they’re going to be trapped here, and in this kind of hostile environment, they can’t afford to let hunger sap their energy away.

That being said, there has to be a line somewhere.

“It’s back home, along with all the normal food.” Sam sighs, though he has to bite back a smile when he sees the wicked kind of excitement on Dean’s face. At least somebody’s having fun. “What makes you think you can even catch one?”

“Because I’m the greatest hunter who ever lived,” Dean replies without missing a beat, and Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. “And that includes dinosaurs.”

“I don’t think you can call it a dinosaur if it’s only five inches long, Dean.”

Dean squints at him, but apparently elects to ignore that point. “C'mon, think about it. Fresh meat, roasted over an open fire… just like camping. Maybe this place has marshmallow trees and we can make s'mores, too.” Now he’s just being silly, but he seems to realize it, at least, with the grin on his face. “Just gotta keep an open mind.”

Sam just sighs at him again, though he can’t entirely hide his smile this time. Yeah, they’ve gotten themselves into a bit of a mess here, and there’s no telling how long it’s going to take to find the portal again- provided it’s still open in the first place. Still, Dean’s keeping the morale up, and admittedly, it’s nice to see him in relatively high spirits.

“Fine, hunt your scrawny dinosaurs,” Sam says, huffing out a laugh. “Just don’t get yourself killed in the process.”

Hell, at least it’ll give them something to do for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	20. Twenty: Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get some rest,” he says quietly, and Sam’s eyes flicker up to meet his, as if he wants to protest. “C’mon. Just close your eyes for a couple hours. I’ll wake you up if anything fun happens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bad Place, again. 2.5 days is a lot of material to work with.
> 
> Wincest-adjacent? Sleepy.

They’ve settled down for the night, the strange world around them cast in shadow as the eerie light from what passes for daytime begins to filter away. There’s a fire going as the cool dampness of the air becomes more prominent, and the two of them huddle together, as comfortable as they’re likely to get in this place.

Sam’s got his head resting on Dean’s shoulder, and it’s not hard to tell that he’s exhausted. Whenever Dean sneaks glances at him, his eyelids are dropping, the fire’s light warm on his skin, and eventually, Dean speaks up.

“Get some rest,” he says quietly, and Sam’s eyes flicker up to meet his, as if he wants to protest. “C’mon. Just close your eyes for a couple hours. I’ll wake you up if anything fun happens.”

After another few seconds of staring each other down, Sam sighs and his eyes slip shut as he relaxes against Dean a little more fully. Good. “Fine.” A short pause, and then, quieter, “do you think we’re gonna get out of here?”

It’s something that Dean hasn’t stopped asking himself since they stumbled into this fresh slice of hell to begin with, but he has every intention of keeping it to himself. “Yeah, ‘course we are. Just gotta find that portal, hop on back through. Or wait for your golden boy to come save us.”

Sam snorts softly, but settles a little more. It occurs to Dean, suddenly, that he might be worried about Jack, on top of everything else. “Go to sleep. We can talk later, okay?”

Sam just hums, that time, and Dean leans in to press a kiss to his temple on impulse. Sam doesn’t seem all that surprised about it.

“You need to shave.”

That’s the last thing he says before he drifts off, and Dean’s left with a faint smile on his face, watching the fire and holding his brother close to his side, allowing himself to relax just a little bit.

He’s got a feeling they’re going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	21. Twenty-One: Pockets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared wakes very slowly, stirring with the feeling of somebody getting out of bed and the whisper of footsteps against the hardwood. By the time he blinks his eyes open, just a slit as he lets them adjust to the relative darkness of the room, the door is open a crack, and Jensen’s spot beside him is warm, but empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Jared feeling the need to stick his hands in Jensen's pockets on stage today at the con in Orlando. C'mon, Jared, who does that???
> 
> Cozy. Soft. J2. Snuggling.

Jared wakes very slowly, stirring with the feeling of somebody getting out of bed and the whisper of footsteps against the hardwood. By the time he blinks his eyes open, just a slit as he lets them adjust to the relative darkness of the room, the door is open a crack, and Jensen’s spot beside him is warm, but empty.

It’s a Sunday, one of the few that they get off during the filming season. There’s no telling what time it is- the alarm clock is on Jensen’s side of the bed, a little too far away for Jared to bother seeking out right now- but the gentle glow from behind their curtains tells him that the sun has risen, beckoning in the morning along with it.

In the quiet of the house, he can hear Jensen shuffling around a few rooms over, and slowly, Jared works up the ambition to get out of bed, rubbing his eyes once he sits up and swings his legs over the edge. The floor is chilly, but not enough to stop him from heading to the door that’ll lead him out into the hallway, yawning and stretching his arms up over his head while he walks.

He finds Jensen in the kitchen, huddled by the counter in one of Jared’s old hoodies. It’s too big for him, and the sleeves are slipping down over his hands, but he doesn’t seem too concerned with that as he coaxes their coffee machine to life, two mugs already waiting to the side. He looks up when Jared comes in, but just barely, occupied as he is with getting his fix of caffeine.

“Morning,” Jared hums, and he’s not shy about heading right over and wrapping his arms around Jensen. On an impulse, he slips his hands into the hoodie’s big front pocket, warming them there and pressing flat against Jensen’s stomach. “Sleep okay?”

Jensen grumbles something incoherent, and Jared grins, resting his chin on Jensen’s shoulder to watch what he’s doing. “C’mon, you looked cold. I’m just helping out.”

“Sure, you are.” Jensen’s more intelligible that time, and Jared laughs at him, nuzzling closer. Both of them need to shave, stubble rubbing on stubble, but Jared kind of likes it. “Thought you wanted to sleep in today?”

Jared watches while Jensen pours the freshly-ground beans into the machine and gives a small shrug. “It’s no fun if you’re not there to cuddle with. So I figured I’d come cuddle you out here, instead.”

Jensen sighs at him, but Jared’s close enough to feel the way his cheek twitches, fighting a smile. “No cuddling until after coffee.”

Despite the words, he makes no effort to shrug Jared off, and Jared decides not to point it out, just snuggling a little closer. “‘Kay.”

He settles right where he is, content to just hold Jensen close in the sleepy softness of the morning. Eventually, Jensen leans back into him, and once they’ve got a couple steaming-hot cups of coffee to bring back to the bedroom with them, barely separating long enough to crawl back under the covers- well, maybe they don’t sleep in, per say, but Jared thinks that their lazy, affectionate morning is just close enough to count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	22. Twenty-Two: Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you seriously still going over the lines?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny J2 thing.

“Are you seriously still going over the lines?”

Jensen’s already mostly dedicated himself to falling asleep, just recently shifting to rest his head in Jared’s lap instead of on his pillow. Jared’s still sitting up in bed, reading glasses on with the script for an upcoming episode in one hand and a pen in the other. He must’ve read the thing at least three times before, but continues to repeat himself, scribbling notes as he goes.

“It’s a big one,” Jared points out, and… well, he isn’t wrong. “I want to make sure I get it right.”

Jensen can’t rightly argue with that, so he just sighs and closes his eyes again, shuffling a little closer to curl against Jared’s side. “Don’t stay up too late. We’ve got work in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

With a satisfied hum, Jensen lets himself relax, starting to drift off shortly after. Even if Jared’s not quite ready for bed yet, it’s comforting to have him here, to listen to the quiet scratch of pen on paper and the barely-there mumble as Jared mouths his lines.

Jensen’s asleep before Jared settles down, but they wake up together the next morning, ready to head out. That’s the important part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	23. Twenty-Three: Jessica's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My birthday isn’t until tomorrow, Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to write something for Jessica's birthday. Have a soft Stanford thing.

“My birthday isn’t until tomorrow, Sam.”

Despite the words, Jess is smiling at him, soft and fond from where she’s seated at the dingy little thing that passes as their dining table. Their apartment isn’t the fanciest in the world, and even with the both of them having picked up part-time work, money can be tight, sometimes (if it weren’t for Jess’ parents, they might not even have this place anymore), but it’s theirs, and Sam’s done what he can to dress it up. Candles, flowers, the whole nine. Even a homemade dinner that- well, all things considered, it’s not that bad. If Sam’s good at one thing, it’s following instructions, and the spaghetti certainly smells good.

“What, I can’t surprise you early?” He’s still moving around, fussing a bit to make sure everything’s just right before he finally sits down across from his girlfriend. He’s even bought them a nice bottle of wine for the occasion, and he picks it up to fill both their glasses. “Besides, I know you’ve got that big bioethics paper coming up. You won’t be able to relax by tomorrow.”

Jess smiles at him again, and as Sam glances at her, he’s taken by how beautiful she looks like this. She’s never not beautiful, but right now- the candlelight, the warmth in her expression, the way her fingers curl around his when she reaches out to take his hand-

“Then I guess it’s alright.” A gentle squeeze, and Sam smiles back. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Happy birthday.” Sam lifts her hand to bring it to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “And this is just the start. It can be a whole birthday week. Lots of pampering.”

She laughs, and he grins. “Well, now I’m excited to see what you’ve got in store. Have I mentioned that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

“Maybe once or twice.” Sam gives a casual shrug, still smiling as he lets go of her hand. “Now, c'mon, I didn’t slave over a hot stove for hours so you could let your food get cold.”

So maybe it was more like one hour, but Jess laughs, and she hooks her ankle around his under the table, and the two of them start to eat, warm and content. It might not be much, as far as birthdays go, but it ends with the two of them curled up together in bed, Jess whispering that she loves him before she falls asleep, and Sam thinks that he did alright, after all.

He’s got a call to make tomorrow, something that’s sure to bring him hurt and disappointment, but for now, he’s happy. For now, he’s got everything he could possibly need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks! <3


	24. Twenty-Four: Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam decides to surprise Dean for his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't feeling great, but wanted to write a thing. Wincest/Weecest. Um... pre-smut?

This was an absolutely terrible idea.

The longer Sam rests here, anxiously awaiting his brother’s return, the stupider he feels for thinking up this whole scheme in the first place. He could’ve gotten Dean a new cassette player for his birthday, or taken him out to dinner, but he had to overthink it. Their relationship is already messy, with lines blurring further by the day, and he sees the way that Dean looks at him, and he couldn’t help but entertain this thought. It’s what led him here in the first place, sprawled out in bed wearing nothing but his softest boxers and a big, pink bow stuck to his chest. It’s ridiculous.

At least he talked himself out of the chocolate sauce. That would’ve been a mess.

Just as he’s about ready to abandon this whole thing- he’s far down the train of thought that Dad could come home early, for once, and that’s more than enough to turn him off the idea- but then he hears a familiar engine rumbling into the parking lot, and there’s no more time to second-guess himself as the sound cuts out and it replaced only moments later by a key turning in the lock on the door.

Sam gulps.

“Man, you’d think they could let me off at least a little bit early,” Dean’s grumbling as he comes in, but even through the annoyance, he sounds light-hearted. “I mean, what more important holiday is there than a guy’s birthday? They didn’t even-”

Sam tracks the exact moment that Dean sees him by the way his rambling stops, and Sam has to remind himself to be calm about this. Admittedly, it’s a little easier to focus on what he’s going for here when he actually sees his brother; grease smudge on his cheek, hair mussed, fresh from his job at a local mechanic shop. He’s drop-dead gorgeous the way he always is, and though it maybe makes Sam feel a little inadequate in comparison-

“Um… happy birthday,” he says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels. Dean’s still staring at him, the perfect picture of caught-off-guard, and Sam scrambles to keep talking. “I, um- I wasn’t sure what to get you, and there’s a pie in the fridge, too, but I just figured… it was worth a shot?”

Before Sam gets the chance to bail- maybe he can rush to the bathroom and live out the rest of his days in shame, tucked away there- Dean’s moving, kicking the door shut behind him and dropping his bag on the floor. It’s four long steps that take him to the edge of the mattress, and he hasn’t even taken his boots off as he climbs up onto it, wasting no time in moving in close. Sam feels hot all over by the time Dean’s fingertips brush his skin- just his arm, but it sends shivers straight south- and he swallows hard, face-to-face with his brother now.

“You’re my present, huh?” Dean gives a thoughtful hum at that, and one of his hands settles flat on Sam’s stomach, gentle. His fingers span wide and Sam holds his breath. “How long do I get to keep you?”

_Forever_ , says something in the back of Sam’s head, and  _I’ve always been yours_. He wants to at least pretend to have some semblance of control here, though, and makes himself say something a little less intense. “Your birthday ends at midnight, doesn’t it?”

It’s the right answer, because Dean grins and then they’re kissing, lips pressed hard and hot together with no room for air. Sam melts, and so do his inhibitions, reminded all at once that it doesn’t matter how silly he feels. Not when it’s to make Dean happy.

“Better make the most of it, then, huh?” Dean whispers without pulling away, and he picks the bow off of Sam’s chest and doesn’t waste a single second after that.

With the way Dean smiles in his sleep that night, Sam curled up close beside him and feeling warm and sated and happy- maybe this wasn’t the worst idea in the world, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	25. Twenty-Five: It Ends Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It ends bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coda for 13.11, so beware of spoilers.
> 
> Mostly hurt with a little bit of comfort. Sam and Dean. Things are sad.

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive. Sam keeps his eyes fixed on the road outside, barely illuminated by the sliver of the moon that peeks out from behind the clouds overhead. Dean hasn’t even turned the radio on to fill the silence, and it speaks volumes about where his head’s at.

_“It ends bad.”_

It’s the story of their lives; an endless cycle of loss that hits a little harder every time, even though he feels like he should’ve long become numbed to its ache. It never gets easier, and every new hurt piles onto the others, layers upon layers of scar tissue built up on his heart until it starts pressing on his lungs and making every breath he takes a little bit harder to justify.

This, though- Mom and Jack being gone, and even Castiel, who’s been off the radar for weeks- this might be the hurt that finally breaks him.

Dean must feel it, too, but his brother’s always been quick to brush these sorts of things under the rug and move on. Sam tries that, sometimes, maybe for the sake of sparing the people around him from knowing the pain he feels, but it only ever makes things worse, and this time… this time, he can’t stand to be quiet about it. Maybe he shouldn’t have snapped at Dean, but he can’t take the empty reassurances. Can’t be knocked down this many times and have people expect him to keep getting back up.

When they make it back to the bunker, Sam doesn’t hang around to give Dean another chance to talk to him about this. He’s out of the car before the engine even shuts off, and doesn’t waste a moment in heading back to his room. Maybe it’s a lingering after-effect of being bound the way he had been, but there’s a weight on his chest and all he wants to do, childish as it may seem, is to crawl into his bed and never leave it again. He’d been damn close to succumbing to that desire, before they went on this insane case to begin with, and maybe this time Dean will know better than to interrupt him.

His bed is just as welcoming as he remembers, and he barely takes the time to undress before climbing under the covers. He might not have even bothered, if his clothes weren’t so dirty from that place; grime and gore from victims before him driving him to throw them straight at the hamper, not bothering to make sure they actually get inside. Once he’s in bed, he does his very best to let the rest of the world fade into nonexistence, curling in on himself and taking a few shaky breaths.

Maybe, if he’s really lucky, once he manages to fall asleep tonight, he won’t wake up again and have to deal with this anymore.

His brother doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting that happen.

Dean knocks, at least, before he cracks the door open, and he has the decency not to turn on the lights. Sam burrows deeper into his blankets and pretends to be asleep, tensing up when he hears his brother coming closer.

“I, um… I’m making dinner. I’ll leave some extra for you in the fridge, if you don’t want to come out.” He’s right by the bedside table, now, and he sets something down while Sam stays perfectly quiet and still. “And I’ll be around. If you want to… you know. Whatever.”

He lingers for a few more seconds, then lets out a soft breath, and Sam listens to his footsteps as he heads back to the door. There’s a pause, though, and Sam imagines his brother standing there in the threshold, hesitating. “It doesn’t have to end bad, Sam. We don’t. Or even if we do…” Another breath. “Might as well make the ride there worth it.”

With that, he’s gone, closing the door gently behind him. Several minutes later, when Sam cautiously pokes his head out from under the covers to see what Dean’s left behind, there’s a few bottles of water along with a photograph. He reaches out and picks it up with shaking fingers, mindful of the worn edges and bringing it closer to make out the image.

It’s him and Dean. They’re younger, laughing, elbows knocking together, both with a beer in their hands. He recognizes Bobby’s place, and somehow, though a lump grows in his throat, something in his chest loosens, just a little bit.

_“I’m here for you.”_

Even with everything else falling apart, Dean is still here. Dean’s willing to stick with him through whatever shit they have to go through; willing to do his damnedest to prop Sam up when he’s down. Willing to be his big brother when Sam needs it most.

Slowly, he sets the photo down again and curls up in place, squeezing his eyes shut. Even if it does end bad for him- even if it ends bloody and painful, the way he knows it will; the way he came so,  _so_  close to ending just a matter of hours ago- at least he won’t be completely alone.

Even as everything else is methodically ripped away from him, leaving him bloody and bruised and broken, at least nobody has managed to take Dean. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	26. Twenty-Six: Veggies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s why you’ve gotta eat your veggies, kiddo. It’s not just talk.”
> 
> Dean gives a little huff at that, and John feels the gentle knock of Dean’s chin coming to rest on his head. “But veggies are gross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something soft. John and tiny!Dean.

“Faster!”

Dean’s little hands are fisted in John’s hair, and John’s laughing, breathless, one hand holding Dean in place where he sits on John’s shoulders as he picks up the speed. He’s just jogging, really, a lap around the neighbourhood because he’s been meaning to get back into shape, but by the sound of things, Dean’s having the time of his life, and that’s become more John’s focus than anything else.

He rounds the corner and slows down a little bit so he can catch his breath. Dean doesn’t seem to mind, still holding on tight as he straightens up to get a better look at their surrounds. “I can see everything, Daddy! You’re so tall.”

“Maybe you’ve just got a lot of growing left to do,” John teases in return, smiling. He keeps a hand on Dean to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance, and slows to a walk as he starts back towards their house. Mary had just been getting lunch ready when they’d left, and the promise that she’ll be waiting for them is just as much a motivator as the food. “That’s why you’ve gotta eat your veggies, kiddo. It’s not just talk.”

Dean gives a little huff at that, and John feels the gentle knock of Dean’s chin coming to rest on his head. “But veggies are gross.”

“That’s so only the bravest people become big and strong.” John smiles softly, giving Dean’s leg a consolatory pat. “If you want to get real tall, you’ve got to buck up and eat them. That’s just how it goes.”

A dramatic sigh is his response, and John laughs again as they reach the driveway. Sure enough, there’s a kiss waiting for both of them and grilled cheese on the table, and John can’t quite wipe the smile off his face as he looks at his family and thinks about how far he’s come.

At dinner that night, Dean inspects his vegetables with a lot of suspicion before starting to nibble at them, shooting John sneaky glances the whole time. John counts it as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	27. Twenty-Seven: Sticky-Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving into residence is exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small J2 au snippet I've been thinking about for a while. College stuff.

Moving into residence is exhausting. It takes far too long to get all his things upstairs (of course the elevators are out of order, today of all days), and even longer to shoo his parents away once he’s convinced them that he’ll be able to fend for himself and make his own bed just fine. Jensen’s about ready to pass out by the time he’s got everything arranged more or less the way he wants it to be, but somehow, even more pressingly… he has to pee.

Though he managed to get himself a single room this year, he shares the bathroom with one other person. Whoever he is, he seems to have finished moving in already, since there wasn’t any real activity in his little section of the hallway. It’s got Jensen curious and wary, but right now, neither of those things matter very much.

After listening by the bathroom’s door for a short moment- it’s quiet, on the other side- Jensen knocks, and with no response, he opens it up, glancing around for a short moment. It’s nothing fancy, and the door to his neighbour’s room is directly across from him, so he moves to lock it before turning to the toilet and doing his business.

The sink is his last stop, and Jensen spares a moment to glance at the hand soap that sits on one side of it while he washes his hands before something else catches his eye. A flash of colour that interrupts the reflection staring back at him.

It’s a note.

_Hey! Sounds like you’re busy moving in, so I’ll just leave this here to see when you’re done. I wanted to introduce myself, since we’ll be neighbours all year! My name’s Jared Padalecki. Maybe we can meet face-to-face sometime soon? :)  
-Jared_

Slowly, Jensen reaches up to peel the note off of the mirror, reading it over a couple times. “Jared” has scratchy handwriting, but there’s something so upbeat about the whole thing that he’s left to assume that Jared is probably a pretty cheerful guy.

After a short moment of consideration, Jensen returns to his own room, only to hunt down a pad of sticky notes and carefully write a response.

_Hey. I’m Jensen Ackles. Meeting sounds good. It’ll be nice to have a friend around. What’s your schedule look like? Maybe we can set something up.  
-Jensen_

Jensen sticks the note to the mirror and gently tucks away Jared’s in his desk drawer, feeling oddly light as he settles down in bed, intent on taking a nap.

Maybe he’ll have another note waiting for him when he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	28. Twenty-Eight: Fire Extinguisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daddy, what’s this?”
> 
> John steps closer, the answer coming automatically. “It’s a fire extinguisher. If something catches on fire, you can use this to spray some special foam on it, and it puts the fire out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about Dean wanting to be a firefighter, and got really sad about it, and. This. Weechesters and dad!John and. Soft stuff.

The Pine Forest Inn one of the higher-end motels John’s seen in their time on the road. He doesn’t pick it for comfort so much as he picks it for lack of another option; all the cheaper places down the road are booked up, supposedly to accommodate an influx of tourism for some kind of winter festival happening in town. The details don’t matter; all John thinks about is the dent this is going to put into their quickly-dwindling savings, and he tries not to let the worry become too visible. Dean’s only just recently started talking again, and he’s still anxious at the best of times, so John doesn’t want to do anything to make things worse for him.

Maybe the nice motel will do them all some good.

He gets them a room at the far end of the building and returns to the car to gather up his bags and his children. Sammy’s still sleeping when John gently picks him up, but he’ll need to be fed soon, and Dean reminds him of this fact once they start walking to the room together, his tiny hand curled around two of John’s fingers. “S’it almost lunchtime?”

“Almost, kiddo. Let’s just drop our stuff off, and then we can go get something to eat.”

Apparently satisfied with that answer, Dean falls quiet once more, and stays that way until they make it to the room. John unlocks the door to let them in, and Dean hurries ahead of him, always eager to inspect their new surroundings. Taking his time, John steps in behind him, glancing around absently as he nudges the door shut. As expected, it’s a lot nicer than what he’s grown used to, with a surprisingly clean-looking kitchenette and a love seat in front of the TV.

He sets the bags down by the bed and keeps Sammy in his arms. There’s no sense getting him settled when they’re about to head out for lunch, anyways, and with that in mind, he turns back towards the door… only for Dean to catch his eye, staring up at something shiny and red, fixed to the wall near the stove. “Daddy, what’s this?”

John steps closer, the answer coming automatically. “It’s a fire extinguisher. If something catches on fire, you can use this to spray some special foam on it, and it puts the fire out.”

Something in his response causes Dean to quickly spin around to face him, eyes big and round, and John’s going to ask what’s wrong, but- “how? How does it do that?”

Still worried, John reaches out to take the fire extinguisher off its mount, shifting Sammy to one arm. He moves down to one knee so Dean can see. “Right here. You pull the pin, squeeze the handle, aim at the base of the fire. It’s a little like a hose.”

Dean’s deer-in-the-headlights look quickly shifts to one of resolve, and he huffs out a little breath. “And- and it can save people? When it puts out the fire?”

Understanding hits John like a truck, and it takes him several seconds to respond, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, kiddo. It can save people.”

For all the shiny-eyed determination in Dean’s expression, his voice wobbles a little when he speaks again. “We gotta get one. To keep. Jus’- jus’ in case.”

There’s no sound argument that John can put up against that, so he just nods, setting the fire extinguisher aside when Dean moves in looking for comfort. He holds both his boys in his arms, Dean trembling minutely and Sammy beginning to stir with all the activity, and for a moment, he puts the pain aside and tries to count his blessings, instead.

He picks up a fire extinguisher on the way back from lunch, and teaches Dean how to use it again on request.

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	29. Twenty-Nine: Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ll be back soon, right?”
> 
> Dean and Dad are leaving on a hunt. Sam is worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weechesters and Sam is worried about his big brother and his dad. Poor baby.

“You’ll be back soon, right?”

Sam’s stretched out on the bed, laying on his stomach with a pillow bunched up under his chin. He’s hugging it, too, trying to take some comfort in the feel of it in his arms while his eyes track Dean’s movements back and forth across the room. Dad’s already outside, waiting in his truck, and not for the first time, Sam wishes he’d tried a little harder to talk the man into staying a little longer.

Dean’s a little easier to convince of those sorts of things, but right now, he seems too fixated on his task to slow down and listen. He’s bustling around the room, gathering up last-minute supplies and pieces of clothing he’s dropped on various pieces of furniture throughout the week. If he notices that Sam’s already snatched a hoodie for himself, bunched up under the pillow he’s holding, then he stays quiet about it.

“Soon, Sammy,” Dean agrees, and Sam lets out a tiny sigh. It’s always the same answer, whether Dean’s gone for three days or three weeks. “And I’ll call to check up on you, so don’t go doing anything too crazy, okay? Nothing I wouldn’t do.”

There’s definitely a snarky reply to be made there, but Sam keeps it to himself. He doesn’t want to risk souring what might be Dean’s last impression of him- at least, for the next little while. “I won’t.”

“Good.” With a nod, he keeps going, fishing a t-shirt out from under the next bed and stuffing it haphazardly into his bag. “And don’t talk to strangers. And make sure you do your homework, and feed yourself, and all that kind of stuff. Be careful, and if anything weird happens, you call me right away, got it?”

“Got it.” Sam bites his lip, because Dean’s nearly finished and Sam’s not sure if he’s too old to say this kind of thing. “And, um… you too. Be careful, and… stuff.” A beat passes, and he continues, quieter. “I’ll miss you.”

Finally, Dean stops in his place, turning to look at Sam properly, and Sam wants to hide. His brother’s probably just going to make fun of him now, tease him for being such a girl, and he almost takes it back, but.

Dean crosses the space between them, and he looks a little uncertain, but then he leans down and presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead, just barely there. Sam holds his breath.

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Sammy,” Dean tells him quietly, and then straightens up again a moment later. His hand finds Sam’s hair and ruffles it affectionately. “I’ll call, okay? Promise.”

Sam gives a tiny nod, and with that, Dean smiles once more and turns to head for the door. Sam watches him go and only lets out his breath once the door closes between them, closing his eyes and sagging into the pillow a little bit.

There’s always a fear that Dean or Dad- or even both of them- won’t come back from one of these hunts. Sam’s constantly scared of something terrible happening to his little family while he’s here by himself, barely sparing a thought for his own well-being in the meantime, but at least this way… at least Dean can leave knowing that Sam loves him. That’s the best Sam can hope for in these kinds of situations, and it’s leagues better than nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	30. Thirty: Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shouldn’t let this get the best of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what this is. Wasn't feeling great and this is what came out.
> 
> Maybe I'll write a follow-up later.

He shouldn’t let this get the best of him. It’s a little bit of bad weather and nothing more, but no matter how many times Dean repeats that to himself, it doesn’t get any easier.

He shouldn’t have sat down. That had been his first mistake; the exhaustion had gotten the better of him, legs protesting until he didn’t have it in him to take another step. He hits the ground harder than he means to, but at least the wind doesn’t hurt as much down here. At least the snow is here to keep him company.

It was stupid to travel out in this, the entire world reduced to a shadowed, white blur under the moonless sky, but he hadn’t felt like there was any other choice. Not with his stomach growling the way it was. His bag’s stuffed with cans, but the motel is so far away and the wind is howling and Dean is shivering and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get up again.

The snow is comfortable, at least. When he lies back and curls in on himself, it’s like an old friend that holds him tight, tender. Gentle as the numbness in his fingers, the harsh stinging over every inch of exposed skin, starts to fade into unimportance. He almost feels safe here, even as the blizzard rages all around.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to close his eyes. Just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	31. Thirty-One: Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shh, shh, just like that,” Sam breathes out, and he presses in closer, a blanket of weight over Dean’s back. “Just like that, Dean, you’re good. Doin’ good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and... some kind of unrequited situation, but with smut. Wincest.

“Shh, shh, just like that,” Sam breathes out, and he presses in closer, a blanket of weight over Dean’s back. “Just like that, Dean, you’re good. Doin’ good.”

Dean’s in a daze, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation packed into such a tiny moment. Sam’s moving, quick and brutal, and the whole bed is rocking with him, springs creaking and the headboard  _thud-thud-thudding_ against the wall. Somewhere distant, Dean’s conscious of their neighbours, but mostly all he can think about is how  _full_  he is, of the grip Sam’s got on his wrists, of the hitching, uneven breaths he manages to suck in between the sounds he’s gasping out and the way he’s half-smothered in the bedsheets on every other thrust.

It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, and it’s always messy like this, lips bitten red-raw and finger-bruises pressed into soft flesh, and Dean- Dean’s never sure if this is how he wants it, but it’s the only way he can get it with this  _thing_  that permeates the air between them. They’re  _brothers_ , and it’s  _wrong_ , and he’s had this conversation with himself a hundred thousand times over, and it doesn’t matter, it  _doesn’t_ , and yet-

Sam angles down and hits right where Dean needs him to, and he’s muffled as he cries out, leaving spit-damp spots in the sheets where he bites down, and Sam reacts, too, grunting something unintelligible into the back of Dean’s neck. It’s another one, two,  _three_  before Dean finally reaches that precipice, and it comes hard and fast, just like everything else they do, spilling into a wet spot he’ll try his best to avoid that night, and Sam’s not far behind, either, and it’s his turn to bite down; finds the junction between Dean’s neck and shoulder and latches on tight while the pair of them ride it out together.

Things stop just as quickly as they always start, though, and Sam’s pulling out, and Dean’s a sticky mess, and no words are exchanged between them. Sam gets the first shower like he has since he was old enough to shower on his own, and Dean stays right where he is, catching his breath against dirty sheets and feeling the lingering aches all over his body and wondering if they’ll ever have anything but this.

One day, he hopes he’ll be brave enough to crawl into Sam’s bed in the  _after_ , and they’ll fall asleep together, and they’ll wake up the next morning, and things will be better. One day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
